Archive for the ‘1’ Category

Stop Outlier-ing My Thigh

I got on the most crowded metro train I’ve been on yet (no big feat considering how rarely I am commuting during non-off hours). No one could read the things they had brought because there was barely even room to lift your arms to hold on to the rails.

The doors keep being unable to close. We get ‘announced’ at by the conductor. I feel like I am in grade school, but with less room and less of a future. A man in our car next to the door says something or other that signals to all the riders within earshot both (i) his solidarity in our desperation and frustration and (ii) that he is not the one stopping us from leaving the platform. Finally, doors close. I let out an overly young-sounding “yay!”, but life is for the living, eh? And rush hour home is for letting your mind rest a bit.

The man standing directly (verydirectly, spacepurposelyleftout) behind me makes some small talk. Little-girl-voice “yay”s may be a signal to others that you are an okay person to stranger-talk to. This is a guess. I am normally okay with stranger-talking, but it is to awkward in a city like this, in a situation like that, to encourage real conversation.

He was carrying Gladwell’s “Outliers”, which had spent the past ten minutes stuck in my thigh, despite our best efforts. I finally scored a seat. Before he got off at his stop, there was clearly awkward, do we say ‘goodbye’ attempts at eye contact possibly but maybe not and so look a little to the side but still in the general area aaaaand you know how it goes. I think it ended with someone walking through the line of sight when it might have happened.

Anyway, I will never be able to read that book without remembering this.


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The Upwardly Mobile See-Saw

That’s how life feels right now. Ups and downs and lack of real balance, but it’s like the overall trend is upward and I’m poised for good things.

This is an interesting age to be and it’s an interesting age to … be it in. =)

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Let The Right One In.

No way I could have watched this myself, but I'm glad to have seen it.

Nightmares become dreams?

Always let in like souls.

Tap out "kiss" to me.

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There is a van parked outside my house with this slogan on it. I am forcibly reminded of The Luck of Ginger Coffey.

I don’t know whether to hope for better luck than his or to be thankful if I get even his modicum of luck.

I’m pretty sure I won’t be cloth diapering, though. And if I do, I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be with the outsourcing of that task.

(Edit: I think it’s this business. I don’t think the van pictured matches the van I’ve seen aside from the name, but whatever. I can’t recommend them or anything, I just know that people get curious. And their children get poopy.)

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I barely remember this movie and am not sure I even like it. But I know I love the words.

Cop 223: We're all unlucky in love sometimes. When I am, I go jogging. The body loses water when you jog, so you have none left for tears.

Cop663: You like noisy music?
Faye: Yes, the louder the better. It keeps me from thinking.
Cop663: You don't like to think? What do you like?
Faye: Never thought about it.

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Let's go literal. If there's some terrible accident or murder (knock on wood) and there's some story on t.v. about how they can't identify the body, you guys – if that body has these scars, please step up. It will be a bittersweet internet wonder-story.

Top 5, no particular order:

1) Bridge of my nose – chickenpox. Scabbed but fell off.

2) Left wrist – fight with my friend in after school daycare in the lower elementary years; we were scratchers.

3) Right wrist – cut myself on chicken wire in 6th grade.

4) Left knee – tripped and fell as a child running on cobblestone and got a piece of flesh dug out by a stone I landed on.

5) Stomach,("stage") left and above the belly button – fog machine nozzle burn.

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Swords are no one-hit (ha!) wonder

More selfishly, I'd choose typewriters b/c I love crunchy percussive sounds.

There's not a fighting (ha!) chance with guns. Plus, it's like built-in exercise if you're gonna. I'm not a fan of swordplay (*love* wordplay), but usually you can at least see when danger is there. With guns, your real main hope is that the shooter sucks. What is there to be done defensive or offensively?

Perhaps you are more knowledgeable and can tell me. This is my best guess from the store of knowledge currently internalized.

If swords didn't essentially replace guns, then I'd say typewriters. Possibly rotary phones b/c they make the 'ca-chunk' noise when the wheel spins back home.

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